


The Thrall of Hyperion

by CalamityCain



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anesthesia, Drugged Sex, Gags, Humiliation, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 23:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19778761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/pseuds/CalamityCain
Summary: The Agent of Asgard finds himself in new depths of peril – drugged, weakened, and at the mercy of Hyperion, the last Eternal. Hyperion has made it his relentless mission to best one of Earth’s mightiest guardians: Thor the thunder god. And when his call to battle is shunned by the mighty Asgardian, he decides to capture and threaten the one Thor holds most dear….





	The Thrall of Hyperion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [citizenjess (givehimonemore)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/gifts).



> I wrote this last year, actually, as a gift to accompany a commissioned artwork for @citizenjess. She wanted me to post it up so here it is! (My first time ever writing Hyperion; I did a bit of research and hope I got his characterisation right, sort of.)

LOCATION: UNIDENTIFIED  
APPROX. 400,000KM FROM EARTH

“Wake, little prince.”

What was this blackness? _Gods,_ his head hurt.

“You’ve been a good boy. But you’ve yet to serve your purpose.”

Vertigo coursed through him as he realised he was upright. His pounding head, still heavy, rolled about before falling onto a granite boulder of a chest. A strong arm, thick as a tree, kept him from keeling over.

“Wake up, now. Open your eyes and see…” 

Loki did not know why he should obey this man’s orders. Yet obey he did. His fogged mind had little grasp on anything, and so it must follow the path of least resistance till clarity returned, and hopefully his wits with it.

With great effort he peeled back his eyelids and saw before him a surreal chamber of glass and polished surfaces on which neon light danced languidly, staining everything pink and electric blue. No window as far as he could discern, no mark of day or darkfall. He felt suspended in a bubble far from any known realm. Doubtless he was merely in some dump on Midgard. But all this glass was dizzying. And his senses were frustratingly slow.

He had no recollection of being taken. Or did he? A descending shadow, the glint of a gaze whose humanity had been eroded by millennia in the depths of space, snatching him in his sleep like a hapless child. A brief struggle and being forced to breathe in some bittersweet substance not of this planet. It was all he remembered. _Ugh._ Was this new body and its accompanying grey matter so inferior?

“What do you want of me?” he asked – or meant to. What came out was a garbled string of syllables. He tried again, and felt the resistance of wadded fabric between his lips, stilling his tongue and teeth. At the man’s smug, low laugh, Loki whirled around to face him, and perhaps deal a sharp blow or two, only to realise he was tied up as well as gagged, arms and wrists securely pinned behind him. His legs bore similar fastenings: some infernal material that would be short work to sever were he closer to his normal self.

As it was, all he could do was struggle like a pathetic mortal, and he soon gave that up, for it was undignified. Besides, it would seem that – save for his boots and shreds of scale-mail leggings – he was also naked. 

“To answer your question – why are you here, or something to that effect, et cetera – the answer is simple, godling.” A hand clasped his chin and turned his face so that he finally laid eyes on his captor: an unfamiliar face, handsome if vaguely grotesque, the cold hard lines somehow vulgar up close. “Your brother.” 

“Nmmmff?” _How is that an answer?_ The man’s eyes were hypnotic; or rather the glowing red pinpricks of light within them were. He found himself transfixed, and his mind began slipping back into a stupor…

 _Stop!_ He shook his head to clear it, though his movements were limited by the fingers still clasping his jaw. “Mmh brfhh?” he mumbled in a half-daze.

“Yes, your brother. Thor the valiant, Thor the glorious, the golden son of Asgard.” His jaw was released as the cool hard hands moved to touch him in other places. “I know full well how much he loves you. And how much you adore him. Much as you ever pretend otherwise.” Loki tried to move away from the increasingly intimate violation of his body, but was helpless to stop those ruthless fingers from pinching, stroking, penetrating…

At some wordless command, the surrounding glass panels shifted to become mirrors, reflecting them tenfold in the dizzying prismatic gleam. Loki saw his captor fully now – a fair haired being built like a mountain, with some of his brother’s handsomeness and none of the warmth, clad in black leather armour and gold.

“I am Hyperion,” said the man. “Last of the Eternals. Crusher of champions. Defeater of Earth’s mightiest. And I would challenge the mighty Thor to a battle.” His nipple was pinched hard, and he winced. “But alas, this one time he proves cowardly. He will not rise to my challenge. Rather disappointing, don’t you think?”

Loki refused to grace him with a response, keeping his gaze icy. But in the next second his resolve cracked as two, then three fingers slid up his exposed opening, not even oiled for mercy but brutal, dry, thrusting. He mewled and cried out, cheeks and neck growing hot, and dropped his head so as not to face his own shame in the multiple mirrors. Hyperion grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled upward. “Nngffh!!”

“Look into the screens, little one. They are capturing your every move; your struggles are sweet, a perfect lure for my prey. The prey that knows only one way to answer the distress of his beloved.” With horror, Loki realised they were being recorded. His eyes flickered to his cock, freed from the shredded remains of his leggings, and betraying him by reacting to Hyperion’s ministrations. With each rough stroke it grew flushed and firm. Against his will, the heat of pleasure pooled in his loins.

“Look at me.” The voice was like a clarion call through his head despite its softness, and he was compelled to obey. He faced the mirrors – no, the screens – bearing witness to his own debasement. “You may be a god, but you are no champion. Your role, then, is to surrender.” The hands continued their skilful work of stoking him to mindless arousal. He sighed and moaned into the gag and looked into the reflected glow of Hyperion’s laser stare, and let them mesmerise him even as he came in a warm gush over his belly.

“Hmm…submission does suit you, after all. I am sure your brother would agree.”

He was pushed to his knees, a collar clamped around his neck. At its cold touch he felt his mind and body weaken further. His vision swimming, he slumped to the ground. Loki, former god of mischief and chaos, he who had once conjured new realities by will, could only watch as the little world of mirrors go dark until all that was left was the echo of Hyperion’s gloating laugh.

~

LOCATION: PORTAL OF THE BIFROST  
ASGARD

Unbeknownst to Hyperion, Thor was already searching for his little brother…as of moments ago, after receiving word from the All-Mother that Loki was missing. 

He had been summoned to Hlidskjalf after a half-year of travel between realms, fulfilling his duties as Asgard’s future king and its present defender. Although he would have rather said duties been more physical and less…diplomatic. He was still learning, it seemed, to be politically shrewd and to hold his tongue when appropriate. This had always been Loki’s territory, not his. 

_I miss him dearly. Perhaps more than anyone would._

Out loud, he merely said: “Perhaps he is hiding? Loki has a habit of making more enemies than friends.” 

“We have a binding contract. The terms of which he is to fulfil if he wishes to reap is desired gain. Thrice now I have summoned him, and he has failed to respond.” A shadow fell over Freyja’s visage. “Still, I wished to give him the benefit of the doubt. So I sent Huginn and Muninn; no word from either.”

“And Heimdall?”

“What do you think? He was the first one I went to. He said only – after much effort – that he sensed Loki is in some form of trouble.”

Thor’s heart skipped a beat, as it instinctively did whenever Loki was threatened (at least when he knew of it. He thanked the Norns for being blissfully unaware of all the times his troublesome sibling had narrowly dodged death, including the kind inflicted by Loki’s future self – curse the existence of time travel!). 

“I’ll hunt him down. No promises when I’ll find him – but find him I will, somehow.” 

“I have faith you will.”

He passed beneath the archway to the glittering bridge, Mjolnir in hand. Heimdall did not need to be commanded. The golden-eyed Watchman stood with Hofund at the ready; with a twist of the great swordkey, he opened up the path to the worlds beyond, and to the beginning of a quest Thor was determined to see to the end.

~

“It seems I miscalculated your brother’s devotion.” Hyperion’s voice dripped with disappointment. “The Avengers who speak for him claim he is unreachable. I suppose I must relieve my thirst for conquest by defeating the lesser of two gods…for now.”

He opened his eyes, with less difficulty this time. The limbs that had begun to ache from their restraints were bound in a different fashion. No longer pinned tightly behind him, his arms were by his sides now, attached to the hard surface he lay on by what looked like steel but had just the slightest amount of give. The same gleaming straps held down his torso, ensuring he could barely move half an inch. The gag, too, had changed; in place of fabric was what felt like the head of a very large cock filling most of his mouth, held in place with leather straps.

But the real finishing touch – the flaming cherry on the triple-tier cake that was the ruin of his dignity – was the pair of stirrups holding his legs up and apart, locking them in place. His boots and in fact any remnants of clothing were gone.

Exposed, spread out, displayed for the viewing pleasure of whoever was on the other side of the screens. Were they capturing his ordeal even now? 

“Feeble-minded as they are, the inhabitants of Earth – at least those with access to technology – are incredibly inventive in the area of certain pleasure devices. We shall see, then, at what point pleasure turns to torment.” The faintest of hums followed these disembodied words. Loki felt his cock stiffen and twitch, and looked down to see… _Oh, fuck._

A ring of metal encircled his cock, attached to a vibrator of some sort. A remote-controlled vibrator. Probably the kind with an unreasonably wide spectrum of adjustable strengths. And this was only the first level.

By the third level, Loki was screaming around the gag. By the fifth, he was reduced to crying.

After nearly an hour – or two, or more; who knew – he had climaxed repeatedly to the brink of senselessness. His throat, raw from plea after wordless plea forced out with each new jolt to his loins, had fallen silent. 

By the time the device was removed, he felt milked dry and ready to agree to just about anything the power-mad Eternal wanted.

But in the end, all Hyperion really wanted was to see a god fall.

Now he felt another device sliding into the opening that the stirrups forced him to present so invitingly. “Mmmm…mhh.” He shook his head in the most futile of gestures. Then a new wave of vibrations sent him into another bout of bliss entangled with torture.

“Trickster of legend. God of pretenders. Where are your illusions now?” Mocking words that chased him to the edge of madness that loosened its grip only when the infernal tremors ceased.

The leather bit left his mouth, and he dragged ragged breaths down his hoarse throat. “There must be…a better way…to s-summon my…brother,” he rasped.

“Perhaps,” said Hyperion. “But none half as delightful as this.”

The glowing eyes stared down impassively at him. He averted his face, the only movement afforded him in the present state.

“Look at me, boy.” 

“I have a name,” he whispered. 

The Eternal’s response was to twist his face around and force him to obey. “Impudent child,” he said. “Yes, child; don’t give me that defiance. You were mighty once, though never as mighty as your golden stepbrother. Do not forget how far you’ve fallen.”

Before Loki could summon a fitting answer from his addled wits, Hyperion disappeared behind the screen-mirrors, which mercifully went black once more, leaving him alone. Free to fall back into unconsciousness – the only freedom left to him now.

~

LOCATION: AVENGERS TOWER  
MIDTOWN MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“So, _some_ body needs to retrieve Thor from space, like about an hour ago. I woke up to his now barely-legal brother’s butthole on my bedroom screen.”

“It’s not that ea – ”

“In my _face._ ”Clint pointed vigorously with his knife, sending a small chunk of peanut butter flying.

“—not that easy just calling Outer Space, don’t you think we’d have tried – ”

“It had a _plug_ in it!” 

“WE KNOW, Barton, we each have our own screens. I got the same wakeup call you did.” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose as if physically pained.

“Those screen things were Tony’s idea, wasn’t it? Listen, we have phones AND a PA system for a reason. The reason being I don’t need a HD visual _with sound_ of… of…”

“Have we managed to discern exactly where this transmission was coming from?” Natasha’s voice was cool, but one could tell her level of perturbed by how thickly she buttered her toast. For once Clint was not the only one consuming an excessive amount of peanut spread. 

“We have a location, but it’s not exactly, uh, exact.” Tony waved his Starkpad at them. On it was a string of coordinates and – 

“That’s a picture of the sky.”

“Yeah, because even my detection tech stops short of the stratosphere. Actually, it goes as far as the moon, but you won’t get visual. Basically our porno livestream is from somewhere in the outer reaches of space. Which, I might add, is where all our problems seem to come from.” 

There was a faint crackle in the air, and the door opened as a booming voice called: “Good morning! It is still morning, no? I’ve yet to check the time.”

“Speak of the devil,” muttered Tony.

Steve rose to greet him. “Good to see you, Thor. I wish I could offer you a pancake, but I’m afraid we have…some urgent updates. Uhm. Not the good kind.”

“Anyway, Clint ate all the pancakes.” “I did not!”

“I am on an urgent mission too, Captain. My brother Loki is missing. I have searched at least three other planets.” 

“Yes…about that.” Steve sighed. “We received…footage…from an untraceable source, that indicated Loki is in a sticky situation.”

“ _Very_ sticky.”

Thor frowned. “May I see this footage? It may give us some hint of the whereabouts.”

“I wouldn’t uhh recommend that.” 

“Why not? Surely it can’t – ”

Steve cleared his throat loudly. “Stark has coordinates. Tony, pass us that tablet?”

As Tony reached for his Starkpad, the picture of the sky suddenly fizzed out and was replaced with a video of a large man dressed in black leather and gold, holding a slender, dark-haired, very naked figure in his lap. Tony quickly hid the tablet from Thor’s view. It turned out to be an unnecessary gesture when the same video hit the large panoramic TV in front of them.

 _“Loki…?”_ The thunder god’s utterance emerged as a strangled cry. He reached for the screen as if he could pluck his brother from it. Loki appeared to be unconscious, hanging limply from his captor’s grasp.

The leather-clad man, whose intimidating build was a rival for Thor’s, spoke in a voice both deep and cold. _“Thor Odinson. I believe we have had contact before. I challenged you to a fair duel; you refused me, believing perhaps you had other, worthier things to do with your time. But what does a god have in plenty if not time? Suffice to say your dismissal was a slight._

 _“In my quest I have bested the best each realm and planet had to offer. I take only on the leaders, the warriors, the champions. You are the mightiest defender of Asgard and of Earth. And yet you shrink from my challenge. You left me little choice but to reach you through more persuasive methods.”_

He adjusted Loki’s unmoving body so that the latter’s head fell back to expose a pale, slim neck. The man’s fingers crept up to form a chokehold around it, and started tightening. The sensation jolted Loki to semi-consciousness. A moan spilled from his lips. A pained, fearful groan spilled from Thor’s.

 _“If you treasure your honour – or perhaps wish to see your brother again – I shall face you in battle at the top of your heroes’ tower at nine o’clock tonight. I trust this message reaches you where the last one failed.”_

The video ended. The Avengers were silent for a few long seconds. The quiet was broken by a splintering sound. It was the Starkpad, reduced to shards by Thor’s fist. 

Tony winced. “That was new – ”

“HYPERION WILL PAY FOR THIS!” Thor shook like a quaking mountain, and for a frightful moment he resembled every inch the ancient myths: a god of blood and fury and storms that knew no mercy. His eyes were white lightning; his golden hair a bristling berserker’s mane. Then the skies outside calmed and slowly lightened again, although the clouds remained heavy, their edges bruised with the threat of thunder.

More silence. Bruce looked slightly green in the face. “I’m, uh, gonna make some tea,” he mumbled before slipping into the shared pantry. Steve, feeling only a little braver, laid a tentative hand on Thor’s shoulder. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” he said. “We’ll stick together through this.”

Thor shook his head. “Not this time. This is something I have to do alone.”  
  
“It’s a one-on-one, I get it. But we’ll be with you.” Steve clasped his shoulder more firmly. “To the end of the line.” 

Thor’s smile was small, but full of warmth. “Thank you, Steve.” He turned and walked away. 

“Where you going?” asked Clint through a mouthful of cereal. 

“He probably needs to be alone for a while,” Natasha said as the door slid shut over Thor’s towering frame. “Smash some things.” 

Bruce took a swig from his mug of sencha. “I know how that feels.”

~

TWO HOURS EARLIER…

He had been dreaming. Shifting in the warmth of the arms that held him, he made a sound of contentment. Let his tongue slide past his lips, freed at last, like his limbs. They felt heavy with sleep still. It was alright. It had all been a nightmare, after all. He was safe. “Thor,” he murmured lazily. A hand stroked his hair. 

“It’s alright, little one,” answered a voice that was not Thor’s.

His eyes flew open to glass and dark mirrors. _No!_ his mind railed as he struggled briefly against the thick arm that tightened around him like a python. There was something on his face – a mask of some sort – connected to a tube that travelled somewhere beyond his line of sight. With his free hand he scrabbled at it, trying to find where the straps began. Too late; it was filling up with that bittersweet poison, choking him… 

“Don’t fight it,” came Hyperion’s soothing voice. He felt his fumbling fingers turn boneless, then his arms and legs, until he was little more than a rag doll in his captor’s arms. “Sshhh. Why fear the inevitable?” 

“I don’t…don’t fear the….” Loki lost his own train of thought. Everything was going hazy. The most rudimentary words failed to form on his lips. He choked weakly on his futile attempts not to breathe. Just as his eyes began to glaze over, the air in the mask cleared, leaving him awake and conscious.

Moments later, he wished he was not.

Hyperion pushed his thighs apart. “Give them a show, little prince.” He felt two fingers easing the way for a bigger intrusion, working him open coldly, methodically. He knew what was coming and yet was helpless to stop it. Curse his saviour for being absent; curse himself for needing one. Hot tears stung the corners of his eyes when he was painfully speared on a large cock that, were he honest, rivalled even Thor’s famed girth.

“You know, when I first began my search for the perfect bait, I was dismayed to find you had met your demise. Or more likely roasting in a pit somewhere for your sins.” Hyperion’s voice was matter-of-fact even as he fucked Loki in a steady rhythm. “Imagine my delight when I discovered you had instead been reincarnated into this sweet, young, nubile form. A ripe morsel of boyflesh, barely yet a man, at least to the mortal eye. However withered and corrupt your soul may be, this new cage contains it well.”

Hyperion’s shallow thrusts grew deeper until he gasped as he felt that massive sex bury itself to the hilt in his ill-prepared hole. “So tight, too. I can see you’ve not had much time to use this new body for all it’s worth. Busy running errands for the All-Mother, no?” The hands gripping his flesh left reddish marks that would soon turn to bruises. Marking him as if to leave proof of his violation. “The great infamous Loki, reduced to a boy toy and a servant.”

The thrusting was ever more ruthless now, forcing guttural cries from him, around the limp useless muscle that was his tongue. “But then, subjugation was ever in your nature. And you will kneel broken and used before Earth’s champion – soon to fall from his throne as I take from him his victory. And more.”

After what felt like forever, Loki felt the forceful surge spill deep inside him, not just hot but burning. The seed of an Eternal. He wondered vaguely if it would change him, twist him into some powerful being. Wishful thinking, no doubt. He had never felt more powerless than he did now, slumped weakly against this unforgiving boulder of a man whose sex was still snugly inside him, still unbelievably rigid. 

And now, just seconds after that first spasm, it resumed its pumping. Forcing him up and down that merciless shaft. “Nnngh mrrhh,” he protested. _Please. No more._

“Shush, pretty one. Save your struggles for when your saviour arrives…if he arrives at all. In the meantime, consider this his punishment for ignoring my call to battle.” The gleaming screens stared impassively back at his abused body, capturing every new mark the Eternal’s fingers left, the rivulets of tears he could no longer hold back. The physical rape he could bear. Far worse was the humiliation that came with it. And the humiliation to follow. Unless he could find a way to unravel and rewrite history, the glare of the cameras would haunt him forever. 

Just when he swore he would be split in two, Hyperion filled him with another climax, before withdrawing from his loosened, dripping hole. He was being laid down on the cold surface they had been seated on. Gods, but the man was still hard – and leaking as hungrily as if he had not been pumping Loki full of seed.

There was a series of obscenely wet, slick sounds above him, followed by a splatter of hot spend all across his torso and thighs. It seemed impossible that one man’s sex should hold so much. But then, he had never had any intimate contact with an Eternal. Or much of any contact, really. They were a rare race as it was. And the last of them had made a mission of staining the defeated Agent of Asgard with his come. 

“It seems you are only more fetching when debased in such a manner, sweet godling.” 

His dignity irreparably shattered, Loki could only sob his rage and despair as the screens captured their last bit of footage before turning back into unfeeling glass. Then the gleaming panels drew closer and closer around him. He saw a glimpse of Hyperion disappearing into their folds before they were locked back in place, unyielding. A cage.

“Back to sleep now, little prince. May your dreams be sweeter than the cruel waking world.”

A faint hiss signalled the return of the soporific gas. Still reeling from his last dose, he was helpless to resist its sway. It crept up his nose, turning his arms and legs to stone, weighing down his eyelids.

 _“You are learning at last,”_ said the voice of the Eternal. _“To submit is in your nature…remember that.”_

He railed briefly against the idea. Ahh, but did Hyperion not speak true? Did he not court trouble and wreak havoc because he desired the captivity of Thor’s embrace – even if he must be dragged there in chains? Did destiny not tip him repeatedly towards defeat however great his abilities?

_“That’s it. Recall the journey that led you here.”_

“Mmmh.” In his haze his memories unravelled like a tumble through time. And here he was, in his rightful place at last. If fortune favoured him a little more this turn, he might find himself in his brother’s arms again.

_Find me, Thor. Make me yours. As I have ever been._

With this last lingering thought, he surrendered to oblivion.

* 


End file.
